


I Say Hello, You Say Goodbye

by sadthespian



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Beta Read, On Hiatus, Pre-Canon, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sexual elements much more implied than detailed, Slight Canon Divergence, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadthespian/pseuds/sadthespian
Summary: Klaus was always too quick to trust. Misjudgment leads him into the hands of a man intent on breaking him in more ways than one. *On Hiatus





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up in the king size bed in a room overlooking the park had become routine for Klaus the past week. Currently, he was sprawled out on the white duvet beneath him. Although his relationship with Peter began as a one-night-stand, it was now a regular occurrence. The first night they met he was high out of his mind – surprise, surprise. However, he could still remember meeting the man with ginger hair in the Hugo Boss suit - donning a Rolex, no less - at one of the nightclubs he frequented. And he had chosen to talk to _him_ of all people. Klaus had a pretty high self-esteem, but these yuppie sorts – who he was generally attracted to – never really gave him the time of day with the exception of a blowjob/coke exchange. _And_ he was _British_. Klaus always had a thing for accents. 

He was still living The Academy for the most part, but only when he bit his tongue long enough not to cause his father to demand he leave for whatever period of time the old man decided. Although he was surprised Daddy Dearest let him back on the premises at all, he knew it was for one reason alone: the possibility of Klaus’ powers developing with age. He was still only sixteen and, according to a conversation he overheard, Reginald was still holding onto a miniscule ounce of hope. Klaus had planned on breaking into the study to find some cash after mistakenly thinking the elder Hargreeves retired for the night.

“There are so many possibilities with Number Four,” Reginald had lectured Pogo. “He’s just too _weak_ to face the very ability that would make him an asset to the team…” 

An _asset_. Yes, that’s what they were. Assets, acquirements, weapons… whatever word you wanted to use. However, he never quite measured up. To be honest, he was glad. While he always had Number Five’s disappearance to keep him out of the #1 spot of “Most Defiant” – the kid literally had a temper tantrum and vanished off into the horizon- he definitely came in second. 

It started slowly. At thirteen he started refusing the weekly, painfully fascist haircuts Mom was ordered to give him to manage his naturally curly hair. Reginald wanted his team to look primped and polished at all times and his unruly locks did not fit into his vision. With that being said, Daddy wasn’t pleased when Klaus outright refused one day by giving chase around the mansion. He tried a variety of punishments: barring Klaus from all meals, taking away all his personal possessions, and – the worst – locking him in the mausoleum for three days.

However, Reginald eventually realized there was not much he could do with an emaciated, mess of a boy. He was missing missions and they needed a look out. So, they came to an agreement he could keep his natural hair as long as it did not reach the base of his neck. Klaus was never into _long_ , long hair anyway so it worked for him. Although his siblings continuously told him how stupid he was being during his resistance, he could tell they secretly gained a bit of respect for him for not giving into Reginald’s harsh punishments. As Luther often put it, “He’s a bastard, but a stubborn bastard.” Klaus took it as a compliment.

Last night had been the result of yet another argument about his drug use. While he’d been rolling joints under the dining room table since he was 13, his palette expanded to pot, ecstasy, and opioids (when he could come up with enough money to afford the outrageously expensive pills.) The thing was – pills like Vicodin and that sort were the best. Along with their potency for keeping ghosts out, it also kept them away longer while he was sobering up. Still, Ben got wind of his emerging opioid habit and lectured him – timidly, but firmly – about what it could lead to: a full-on addiction escalating to heroin. Klaus couldn’t deny drugs were part of his life now, but he knew there was a line and if he crossed it he might lose the only parts of himself that he liked.

At this point in his life Ben felt like his only ally, despite his often-depressed state. Over the last year he’d seen his brother become a shell of himself. Klaus didn’t even know how to fix himself, but he tried to cheer his brother up whenever he could. Being away now, he felt a tinge of guilt, but he trusted his other siblings to hold down the fort.

He also had Peter, _for now_. And sure, Diego let him tag along to some of his band’s gigs and Allison let him borrow some of her clothes and gave him access to her vast makeup collection – but he still always felt the sense that he was unwanted, a burden. 

Although he was numb to emotional blows at this point, Reginald seemed especially worked up about Klaus’ recent bender. The trips to the mausoleum were always a lingering threat, but Klaus wasn’t eight anymore and even though he was scrawny, he could fight back. However, he often thought of packing up all his personal affects and leaving the manor once and for all.

Hey, if Vanya could get by – so could he. _Oh_ , _Vanya_. At least he was part of the team, as dysfunctional as it was. But Vanya was like… a spare. And if he was being honest, he felt like he barely knew her. However, he could always feel her watching the rest of them – taking it all in. It gave him the heebie jeebies sometimes. Still, they shared a few moments together over the years – albeit fleeting. There were more than a few times he vomited all over one of the bathrooms in the dorm and he found it cleaned up by morning. Since no one else had complained or said anything about it, he knew his silent sister was behind it. Although he could have initiated more, he just felt like they had nothing in common. That was until she left. 

 _“Well fucking-A, good for sis,”_ he laughed, slightly maniacally as a result of the coke still in his system, as Reginald broke the news to them frankly, as usual, at breakfast a few months ago.

He could only imagine freedom felt as good to her as it did to him right now. No ringing bells to announce meals, no childish uniforms, no Reginald- _fucking_ -Hargreeves. Despite his joy, he knew he would go back. He couldn’t leave Ben behind. 

Peter’s exit from the bathroom – well, spa, really – knocked him out of his thoughts. He was chiseled, just the right shade of sun-kissed tan, and always smelled of his deliciously appealing Prada cologne. A towel was securely wrapped around his lower half and Klaus had to fight the compulsion to rip it off. The only thing he could find wrong with him was his ginger hair. It certainly wasn’t Klaus’ preference, but he was thankful it leaned more towards auburn than orange. Plus, he only had a few freckles dotting his nose. It wasn’t anything personal – his aversion to redheads – it was purely a preference. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about asking Peter to go blonde. They had more fun, right? And he had more fun with them. _Except Luther, gross_ – Klaus thought. Thankfully, over the years, his brother’s hair became darker and darker, thus allowing Klaus to ignore any uncontrollable teenage hormonal reactions. It also helped that Luther was an asshole. His personality, or lack of, depleted any sex appeal.

“You look positively _scrumptious_ ,” Klaus crooned with lust in his eyes. He used his abnormally thin arms to push himself up into a sitting position.

Peter merely chuckled, getting increasingly louder as Klaus started licking his lips and dramatically fanning himself with his hand. 

“I would have asked you to join me, but you looked like a little angel,” Peter said with a smile as he wandered into his closet to get dressed.

Klaus let out a giddy laugh.

“Congratulations, you’re the first person on this planet who’s ever called me that!” he laughed as he crawled off the bed, clad in one of Peter’s expensive, soft as fuck t-shirts that were essentially dresses because of Peter’s height and bulk. He positioned himself seductively in the doorway.

“So, you’re saying that old Hargreeves never tucked you in at night and called you angel… baby…honey?” Peter smirked.

Most people in the clubs he frequented knew he was a member of The Umbrella Academy. That’s why they let him in in the first place. He never intended on revealing his identity, but he found it often got him free drinks and booze – plus, hookups purely based on many men’s curiosity about what went on behind the gates. And although he was high most of the time, he made sure not to say _too_ much. Most of the time he made fun of Luther and Reginald, which usually amused his fling of the night.

“More like… useless, imbecile, waste of space – those kind of endearing terms,” Klaus said casually, picking at his nails. Only a few flecks of magenta polish remained from his last mani-pedi sesh with Allison. His cuticles were a _mess_. He made a mental note to bug his sister for another spa day when he returned… eventually.

“Well he’s wrong. You’re perfect,” Peter said, a layer of sincerity coating his words.

“Awh shucks, you’re making me blush,” Klaus smiled. He _was_ actually blushing a little.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I have a small errand to run,” Peter said, slipping on a sport coat. “How about you join me and then we’ll grab a plate of that mess you like so much?”

“You mean Halal?” Klaus laughed. He still couldn’t get over that accent. It made everything sound so elegant.

“Sure,” Peter smirked. “Here, put these on. I prefer you without them, of course, but rules are rules I suppose.”

He tossed him bundle of clothes. Klaus soon realized they were his own – freshly laundered. Damn, he could get used to this. 

The young séance took his time putting on the skinny jeans and plaid flannel, almost like a reverse strip tease. Peter helped – buttoning up his shirt, before finishing off with a kiss and a light slap on the bum. Klaus merely winked at the last gesture. 

Before long they were in front of the luxury apartment building. Peter held the door of a black town car open for his young lover and Klaus happily slid in. They kissed and fondled a bit in the back until they pulled into a parking garage. Klaus hadn’t been paying any attention to where it was that they were going, but he hoped this errand wouldn’t take too long. His stomach was rumbling and his mouth watered thinking about the chicken and rice that awaited him. 

“Just making an exchange with a friend,” Peter said as the car parked. “Come out with me for a moment – I’ll introduce you.

Klaus obliged – not thinking much of it. He hoped Peter was getting more coke or pills. They were running low thanks to Klaus.

A serious looking man greeted them, standing next to his own town car. Klaus felt the urge to make a remark about the severity of the man’s face, but he resisted – knowing he probably shouldn’t insult a potential connection.

“Grant, always a pleasure,” Peter said, holding out his hand. The man – Grant – nodded absently before shaking it.

“It’s all here,” the man said, passing over the manila envelope.  

Huh, Klaus thought, a monetary exchange? Oh well – either way, more drugs and booze.

“Excellent,” Peter smiled, folding the envelope and slipping it into his inner coat.

“Oh yes, this is Klaus. Klaus Hargreeves.”

Klaus thought it all sounded strangely formal. Why did this guy care what his last name was? Maybe it was a British thing.

The man looked him over, which made Klaus suddenly uncomfortable. It was like he was taking him in glance by glance.

“Alrighty, glad we’re all chums,” he tried, attempting to break what had become a rather awkward silence. “So how do you –

A stinging sensation cut him off. He looked to Grant and then to Peter. The latter was holding a needle – a rather large one at that. Its end was inserted in Klaus’ exposed neck.

Klaus tried to form words, but he was at a loss. The scene was slipping away and although he could hear the men talking it was all nonsense in his ears. His vision was beginning to fade as well. However, he could feel himself being guided towards Grant’s vehicle.

_No, he didn’t want to go. This wasn’t right._

Before he knew it, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus doesn't have a clue where he is, but it doesn't take long for him to realize it's somewhere he doesn't want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your encouraging comments and kudos! Apologies this has taken awhile to post, but I've had a lot of projects going on between work and freelancing. 
> 
> I'm aiming for about 10 chapters total and I have a definitive end game in mind - although I realize it's a little bit of a slow build. Expect a lot of Klaus whump coming your way!
> 
> Enjoy!

_Damn. What the hell did I take?_

Klaus felt present in his body, but he felt as if he had no control over it. Slowly he tried to flex his fingers and it took nearly five times as long as it should have. Could Peter’s weed have been laced with something? No. He had good stuff. _Premium_ stuff. Not that overly dank, cheap bud Klaus managed to scrape together enough of his siblings’ stolen allowance for. This was different. The closest sensation he could think of was when they initially gave him morphine in the hospital after he broke his jaw after falling down the mansion’s staircase in Mom’s heels.

_God, they were classy. Black and white spectators, 5 inches-_

_No… focus._

He couldn’t deny he was beginning to feel anxious. His inability to move was almost a claustrophobic experience… and Klaus was indeed claustrophobic. He had daddy dearest to thank for that. Although he hadn’t been forced into the mausoleum for a good year now after Reginald began to give up hope for “the degenerate failure of the Academy,” the memories were ingrained. Klaus could only hope whatever he opened his eyes to was not a small space.

A curl from his forehead was tickling his nose. Christ, he wanted to brush it away and scratch it. Still, he could not move his arms. Oh God, what if he had done something stupid? Well, most things he did would be considered stupid by the average human being, but that wasn’t the point. What he was paralyzed after falling off Peter’s balcony or something?

But then it happened – he was able to clench his toes, which felt bare. _Thank God_. While it might have been a good excuse to be pumped full of painkillers, he couldn’t imagine not having control of his bodily functions. That would mean no more dancing or bathing himself or… sex. A mean thought crossed his mind and he chuckled. No matter what was going on at least he’d had the glorious experience of a full-blown orgasm unlike the so-called pinnacle of masculinity, Number One. Diego and him often mocked their brother’s prude nature – Diego because he wanted any excuse to have one-up on his brother and Klaus because he just enjoyed having an inside joke of sorts with Diego. He couldn’t deny Ben was his favorite brother, if he was forced to choose, but Diego was a close second. Truth be told, he loved all his siblings – even if the feeling wasn’t always mutual. He wondered if they even cared where he was. Speaking of which… that was a question he would love to know the answer to.

_OK, you can do this._

For what felt like 30 minutes, Klaus struggled to open his eyes. When he managed the world was fuzzy, but he could make out what looked like bars above him. While he was grateful they were far above his head and that he wasn’t in complete darkness like the mausoleum, he was definitely concerned. He’d been picked up before by the police of a possession charge, but they didn’t drug him, and jails were never this quiet. So, where the hell _was_ he? 

As the minutes passed by, he slowly started gained control of his body. He finally gained enough strength to turn his head to the side. He wished he hadn’t. On his left was a wall of bars. Gently pushing himself forward he was upright enough to see another row of bars across from him and on his right. It was a cage. As his senses were regained, he also realized he was lying naked on a pile of straw. It tickled him uncomfortably all over his body.

Suddenly filled with panic induced adrenaline, he forced himself into a sitting position. From what he could make out in the large, dimly lit room, he was either in a basement or some type of room in a warehouse. Either way it looked like a dungeon. The corners of the room were masked in darkness as the current light source was a single hanging light fixture in the center of the room that was either weak or set to be dimmed. However, he could make a few things out. There was cross-looking structure against the wall to his left. A few feet next to it was some type of medical chair with stirrups. On the right wall there was a large, four-poster bed with velvet drapery and a tacky gold bedspread. Klaus knew exactly what this was before he got a good look at the wall in front of him featuring an array of BDSM toys hung up – it was a sex dungeon. 

But hey, it could be worse, right? It wasn’t like he was in one of those rooms in Hostel, which he snuck into high one night because, although his life was pretty much a horror movie, he had a fondness for extremely attractive men in dangerous situations. And who knew – maybe this was surprise from Peter! He had told him about his kinky side… or his only side, really. _Of course_ , this was a _roleplay_ or something. Klaus didn’t think Peter was _this_ kinky, but he wasn’t complaining.  

Well, all he could do was wait for Peter to arrive, he supposed. He could have used a few or a pop of ecstasy to get the party going, but Klaus figured Peter would hook him up eventually. He stood up, still a little wobbly, but getting his footing gradually. It wasn’t until he grasped the bars in front of him that he noticed the metal cuffs on his wrists. They weren’t connected like handcuffs – just plain, silver cuffs. Klaus looked down to check his ankles, but he didn’t see any. However, angling his neck made him realize there was something around his neck. He felt for it and it seemed to be the same material as the cuffs but affixed to his neck. There was also a metal loop in front for who knows what. When it came to his sexual partners, Klaus couldn’t deny he liked surprises, but this was… _a lot_.

The minutes continued to tick by. Although Klaus couldn’t know for sure how many since there wasn’t a clock in sight. Growing bored and slightly unnerved he sat down on the straw – picking up a piece at a time and peeling it apart. Klaus wasn’t usually a worrier, but something about this didn’t feel right. A number of ideas floated through his mind, but the most worrying was that this could have to do with his father. What if he had found out about Peter and wanted to teach him a lesson? He wouldn’t put it past the old man. If that was true, he didn’t want to know what was to come.

He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth – something Grace taught him for night terrors. He had to think – what would the team do if they were on a mission?

  1. _Analyze your surroundings_



Well, he’d done that to an extent, but he supposed it didn’t hurt to see if there was anything he missed in this kink version of I, Spy. It was still very hard to make out the details of the room due to the lighting, but a red flicker caught his eye. It was a camera – positioned straight at him. Someone was watching.

He stood up again.

“Hey! Yeah, you! I know you’re watching, and I get it. I’m naked, I’m in a freakin’ cage – and yeah, that’s kind of hot – but do I get some- ...”

A surge of electricity rushed through his body causing him to drop to the cement floor. He squirmed and gasped for two minutes until the currents subsided. Klaus coughed and gasped for air.

“Animals do not _speak_. Animals do not _stand_. If I have to repeat myself there will be _severe consequences,_ ” a voice said over a loudspeaker. 

He froze on the ground. That was definitely not Peter’s voice. It was monotone and unnerving. Reginald’s patronizing tone was even preferable. No, this was a voice he had never heard before. _**What the fuck was going on?**_

And then he remembered everything. The parking garage. Peter. Someone named Grant - if that was his name. Klaus wanted to vomit. He'd been in trouble before, but this was different. He knew it. He was fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus learns more about his situation and it's worse than he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! Engagement is always inspiring so any feedback is appreciated. Hope you "enjoy" this chapter. I'm hoping to post at least a few times a week, but yesterday's response kept my muse in gear - so, again, thank you!

How could he have been so _stupid_?

He would have told anyone there not to answer because he knew how, but it was rhetorical. It all made sense. Even through the haze of his highs, he wondered why Peter would want anything to do with someone like him – at least for more than one night of fucking. And he fell right into his trap. He actually believed that this rich, gorgeous, educated man had feelings for him. Although he wished to God that someone at the Academy knew about Peter, part of him was glad his father and siblings didn’t know how naïve he’d been.

As much as he wanted to lie there in self-pity, Klaus’ survival instincts were kicking in. He needed to find a way out of here or something terrible was going to happen. But what could he even do? He was not only imprisoned in a cage, but he had cuffs and a collar that could send him seizing with (what he assumed) a click of a button. Luther would have been out of here already, he thought bitterly to himself. Plus, Allison, Ben, and Five - if he was still around. Diego would have needed to get his hands on something to use as a weapon, but he could still manage. But Klaus was just as vulnerable as Vanya.

_Maybe Dad was right…_

Suddenly, some type of alarm began to go off. It sounded like a fire alarm, but not as loud. It was just loud enough to hear within the room.

“Get on the floor,” the voice from earlier said over the loudspeaker.

Klaus froze at the sudden reappearance but tried to regain focus to avoid another shock episode. On his knees, he looked up into the camera.

“No, lay on your stomach. And keep your eyes down,” the voice instructed, alarmingly calm. Klaus would have preferred being yelled at. There wasn’t a hint of emotion in this mystery voice.

He did as he was told. The concrete floor felt ice cold against his bare body. He always hated all the layers Reginald insisted they wore – from the early school uniforms to the confining jumpsuits. However, he’d prefer either outfit at the moment. Klaus was always proud of his lack of hesitance when it came to showing off his body, but now he realized he only liked it when it was his choice. And none of this was.

Klaus was barely fifteen when he began to explore BDSM. One of his temporary flings – a well-endowed financial consultant in his mid-20’s – exposed him to toys and bondage. He had been fascinated, especially when he found out there were thousands – maybe even a million – people out there who were into this stuff. He did see the irony of it – being submissive. Klaus’ whole life was dictated by a dominant man. However, he loved the games and the sex because it was his _choice_ to submit. He could use a safe word whenever he needed to. There was no safe word at The Umbrella Academy.

He assumed there wouldn’t be a safe word in this room either. Thinking of the toys and devices he’d gotten a glimpse of in the shadows, Klaus feared what was going to happen once the man behind the loudspeaker appeared. He’d turn celibate and sober for life if it meant getting out of here at this moment. So many possibilities rushed through his head, despite the fogginess that remained. He felt himself beginning to panic once again. Ghosts and voices couldn’t touch him, but Klaus knew he was at the mercy of his captor.

The silence of the room broke again with the sound of approaching footsteps on concrete. He still couldn’t see very well across the room, but the sound of metallic clicks helped him to the conclusion that a door was being unlocked. Klaus stole a glance upwards just as the door creaked open. He looked down quickly – not wanting to be caught and electrocuted – but he knew the man was in the room. His hands – positioned near his face – were quivering. An electrical sound filled the room and even behind closed eyes he could tell the room was fully illuminated with harsh, fluorescent lighting. 

_Click_ – he heard.

_What was that?_

“One click means to lay on your stomach,” said the man.

_Click, click_

“Two clicks means to kneel,” he continued.

_Click, click, click_

“Three clicks means to freeze and stop whatever you’re doing,” he said. “Nod your head if you understand.”

Klaus hesitated. As much as he wanted to protect himself from harm, part of him was holding on to his dignity. None of his siblings would follow this guy’s demands. Before he could think about it anymore, the electrical current ran through his body again. This time he wet himself.

“You will do as you are told _exactly_ and _swiftly_ , do you understand?” the man said, still calm as ever.

Klaus nodded furiously this time.

_God, that hurt,_ he thought to himself.

_Click, click_

Sit. Okay, he could try. Bracing himself with his thin, long arms he maneuvered himself into a kneeling position. Two clicks – yes, kneeling. He still looked down: 1. Because he didn’t want to risk being shocked again and 2. Because he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to look at his captor. 

“Look up,” the man said.

_Well, there goes that._

He was surprised to see a man he’d never seen before – at least one that he didn’t remember seeing before. It definitely wasn’t Peter and he was almost positive it wasn’t that “Grant” guy they met in the parking garage. There wasn’t anything special about his appearance. If Klaus had to guess, he was somewhere in his late 30’s. The man had a mousy shade of brown hair cut relatively short with signs of impending baldness. He was probably only a few inches taller than Klaus at about 6 foot, if he had to guess. There was something almost mushy about him. He wasn’t fat exactly, but he looked a bit bloated – especially around his stomach, which stuck out a bit under a plain white button down oddly buttoned all the way up to his neck. Frankly, he just had that pedophilic look. Technically all the men that Klaus had been with were pedophiles, but at least he’d sought them out. He wouldn’t have gone near this guy for less than a six-month supply. Even then he would still only do it out of desperation. 

“I must say – you’re behaving better than I thought you would,” the man chuckled with a smile Klaus instantly found repulsive.

_Don’t say anything… don’t do it. Don’t._

God, he wanted to make a remark, preferably an insult, but the thought of the shocks helped him bite his tongue. The man smirked at him as if he knew the thoughts running through his mind.

“Well, I guess your jewelry was a good investment then,” he said.

_Asshole._

He’d hooked up with men who were a trillion times better looking than this blob and they were never this cocky. But Klaus could see through it. It was clear the man was overcompensating and was getting off on his current position of power over him. 

_So impressive… kidnapping a rail thin 16-year-old with limited combat abilities. Bravo._

“I know you’re dying to speak. Because that’s what you do… talk. Incessantly. I’ve heard you. It’s quite funny, really. I’m probably the only one who actually listens when you do. But animals don’t talk – and that’s what you are… an animal. All you do is fuck, eat, shit, and poison yourself. But you’re lucky - because I’m going to help you. It’s not going to be easy, but you will change. You just need to follow the rules and accept me as your Master. If you succeed, you will be rewarded. If you fail, you will be punished. But the most important thing you need to remember is that _you are mine_.”

For once, Klaus was completely speechless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus' reality begins to sink in. Meanwhile, at The Academy, Ben realizes something is wrong.

_“But the most important thing you need to remember is that you are mine.”_

Those words kept ringing throughout Klaus’ mind. So, here he was – still an inmate, but in a much worse prison. He was still a possession, but the collector seemed to have plans for him that made the mausoleum look like a tropical vacation. And this time he had no company – no siblings who were going through remotely similar bullshit who he could let off steam with.

What if he never saw them again? It was a definite possibility. He could just hear Reginald scoffing off any concerns about his well-being. However, as much as a dick his “Dad” was, he couldn’t necessarily blame him. He couldn’t blame _any_ of them. Lately, with all his sneaking out and ditching missions completely, Klaus was unintentionally laying ground for the conclusion that he was on his way out for good.  

His only hope was Ben, but his brother barely spoke anymore – wrapped in a layer of depression and apathy. Still, Klaus blatantly told him time after time that he would never leave him behind… _ever_. He told him they were in this together until the end. He only hoped it had gotten through to him behind the jokes and his feigned carefree airs.

“Do you understand?” 

Although it pained him to do so, Klaus nodded.

“I can’t say I believe you, but you _will_ learn in time,” the man in front of him said.

“Here is what you need to know for this stage of your training: You are a slut-pet and that is what I will call you until you earn the right to have a name. You are to call me Master. As a slut-pet you do not speak. You will sleep on your straw pile when you are not being trained. You will eat three meals a day – every ounce of what I give you. You will be force fed if necessary. You will urinate or defecate on the pads I supply you with. If you do not, as you did a few minutes ago, you will be punished. As I did not give you instructions, I will make an exception. Speaking of, bathing is something you will have to earn. If you are a good slut-pet we will not have any problems and you will progress to the next stage. I hope you have a good memory because from this point on any infractions will be punishable. Does that make sense to you, slut-pet?”

Klaus nodded again as he listened – and internally cringed - to this man speak so calmly that he could have been reading a grocery list.

A thought popped into his head: maybe he died. Maybe this was hell. Maybe he died of an overdose or something. It wasn’t exceedingly hot, but didn’t some book or something say hell was actually cold? And this room was certainly chilly enough.    

“Good,” the man said. “Oh, how could I have forgotten?” he chuckled, chin wobbling. 

“I’m fully aware of your drug habits, which have played a part in reducing you to what you are now. Fortunately for you I have medical training and we will be able to taper you off all that garbage with other medications. Once you’re done withdrawing, we’ll be able to start your proper training. And I will say this only once – drugs and alcohol will never be a reward. You’re done with all that now.”

Klaus’ heart sunk. _No, no, no, no, no…_

Weren’t human traffickers or whoever _supposed_ _to_ drug people? That was thing, right? No, he could not do this sober. The voices and the spirits were sure to come back. In fact, he was already starting to feel whatever tranquilizer he was injected with earlier wearing off. True panic began to set in. He could probably handle this with a steady supply of opioids to numb the experience. He could possibly deal with the ghosts outside of this hell hole. But not _both_.

“I will be back in a moment with the pads, your dinner, and your medicine,” he concluded, pausing a moment to gaze into Klaus’ eyes with what appeared to be… fascination? Klaus wasn’t sure what the look meant, but he despised it. 

**_Sunday Dinner at The Umbrella Academy_ **

He was alone – literally. Grace had just served the Sunday roast and both his father and his siblings began to eat. Ben was solely focused on the fact that he was a lone island on the length of the dining room table with his no one beside him or across from him. Five used to sit across from him – he was still missing. Vanya used to sit to his left at the end of the table – she had left the Academy. And Klaus… Klaus always sat to his right. Now he was… well, Ben wasn’t quite sure what he was.

Neither he nor the rest of his dysfunctional “family” had seen Klaus since Wednesday afternoon. He missed a mission – to his father’s fury. That was on Friday. Since then they all had to deal with an extra temperamental guardian – muttering words of disdain about “Number Four” to himself. Worse, he made them perform excruciating endurance exercises during their free hour on Saturday and instructed them to blame their brother – just to give everyone another excuse to resent Klaus.

Despite everything over the years, Ben still care for his brother. He was the only person in this world he could actually let his guard down around. Sure, Klaus liked to tease him, but that was what Klaus did. It was his way of showing affection. And, although his siblings would fiercely disagree, he was usually spot on when it came to his snarky observations. Diego _was_ a Mama’s boy. Luther _was_ shamelessly submissive to his father. Allison _was_ extremely vain and self-involved. And Ben _knew_ he was bitter and passive aggressive so he couldn’t fault his brother for pointing out the obvious. Plus, Klaus mocked himself more than anyone else – a king of self-deprecation.  

He also listened the rare few times Ben tried to explain how he felt. The truth was he hated what he was – what he was capable of. No – what he had done. He’d killed so many people. Yes, they were “bad guys,” but Ben knew – mostly from the world of the books he hid in – that people weren’t black and white. He felt like a murderer with blood stained on his hands – or tentacles. And even though Klaus never took a life directly, he was able to sympathize with his brother in a way no one else could. Ben thought he might have made a pretty good therapist if he ever got sober. 

But where was he? It was only this past Monday Klaus had tried to cheer him up with a midnight surprise of Griddy’s doughnuts. He’d used Ben’s allowance – since Dad refused to give him any money - but it was the thought that counted. However, it was what Klaus said to him that night that made him worry now.

_“I don’t even care anymore,” Ben admitted._

_“Yeah? Well I do. And so do the others – even if their heads are permanently inserted into their rectums,” Klaus said, surprisingly focused and somewhat serious._

_Ben attempted to smile, but he knew he probably just looked like he ate something sour. Physical expression wasn’t his strong point._

_“Look, I know what they all think. I know what you think sometimes. But, sorry to break it to you - you guys are stuck with me,” Klaus said with a sappy grin as he nuzzled Ben’s shoulder. “Especially you. I don’t care if I have to drag you out of here, but we’re going to get out of this hell hole – together. I promise.”_

_He usually hated when anyone touched him, but Klaus’ signs of affection actually made him feel something._

He realized now that feeling was love. He really did love his brother – as much as Klaus loved him. Now he wished he told him that.

Ben looked up from his food, which he’d been staring at for the past five minutes. Everyone was acting like nothing was wrong. Although he knew they didn’t understand Klaus, it still made him furious that they hadn’t even considered the possibility that their brother wasn’t here because something bad happened. With everything that Klaus was into – the weed and the coke and now the pills – he could have crossed the wrong person. He could be lying in a ditch or floating in the river and they didn’t even consider the fact that Klaus could be in danger. He had to do something.

“Dad…” he started. 

No one looked up. Ben hadn’t realized how quiet he sounded. He cleared his throat. 

“Dad,” he said, louder this time.

For once his siblings looked up. They hadn’t even looked up when Five ran out the door all those years ago.

“Number Six, you should know better than to talk during dinner. If you have something to say you can speak at another time,” Reginald said as he cut a piece of meat. 

“But Dad, I – “ he tried.

“One more word, Number Six, and you will lose all your privileges for a week. Do you understand?” Reginald scolded, quite worked up at this point.

The chair screeched against the floor as Ben stood up. Staring his father straight in the eye he flung his plate to the left. It shattered and his dinner exploded all over the floor. This time his siblings looked up at him in shock.

“Ben, what the hell?” Diego practically shouted, his eyes still wide with surprise. 

“Language, Number Two!” Reginald bellowed. 

“Klaus hasn’t been home in almost five days and _none of you_ even care,” Ben said, his eyes drifting from Luther to Allison to Diego to Reginald himself. 

“You foolish boy! You’re behaving this way because of Number Four’s disgusting behavior?” Reginald asked in a fury. 

“He’s never been gone this long without calling someone. I’m behaving this way because you don’t give a damn about _any of us_ and _you never have_! Klaus could be _dead_ and you’re all just sitting here!” 

And then he felt it. The monster was coming. The horror. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. As much as he hated Reginald right now, he wasn’t about to let himself kill the entire household. 

Pogo appeared from an entry way – his hands up in a surrender-like position.

“Just breathe, Master Ben. You’re _home_. You’re _safe_.” 

The tension in the air was palpable. No one knew if tentacles were about to burst from his chest at any moment. 

All of a sudden Grace fluttered into the room – her face collected, but with concern in her eyes. She began cleaning up the mess he made. It anchored him somehow – her innocence. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said quietly, despite the anger still running through him.

“That’s quite alright, dear. We can’t cry over spilled milk, after all,” she said with a warm smile.

With nothing left to say Ben made a beeline to the stairs. He wanted to leave, but he didn’t know where he would go. Vanya didn’t leave an address and she was the only person he knew living outside the Academy.

He glanced back at the table for a moment. A tear ran down Allison’s face. Luther looked ever the faithful soldier, except for his eyes, which exposed his fear and confusion. Reginald was stoic. Diego was hard to read, but something told him the wheels in his brother’s head were moving. Maybe he had gotten through to one of them. Either way, he was going to find his brother.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, sorry guys. These last few months have been rough. All I can say is don't let your doctor give you Benzodiazepines. However, I'm back and ready to channel some angst into this fic! I was anxious to get something up so this is kind of a half chapter. Klaus will be back in the next one, I promise. Anyhoo, enjoy!

Ben paced his room. Some of the courage he had mustered was fading. He was still as determined to find Klaus as ever, but part of him worried what he would find when he did. What if Reginald was right? What if Klaus was partying it up in some kind of crack house? No – not without checking in with him. Ben had pleaded with his brother to let him know where he was going and if he was going to be gone for a few days. Surprisingly, he obliged. The longest he went without calling was approximately 36 hours. Ben remembered because he had been furious when he finally called to say he was with “friends” and would be back the next day. Sure enough Klaus showed up in the morning and Ben gave him the cold shoulder for a week. Klaus hated being ignored, but he hated being confined even more. 

He was like Huckleberry Finn out there on the raft. He couldn’t be contained by Reginald’s rules – or those of society’s for that matter. Literature and art were the only lessons Klaus ever paid attention to and Ben noticed his brother was always drawn to the canon’s adventurers and anti-heroes. Jack Kerouac, Jay Gatsby, Hamlet, Holden Caulfield… Klaus seemed to connect with them. Although books didn’t always hold his attention, he seemed to enjoy them best when Ben read passages out loud. It helped drown out the ghosts. 

The truth was Klaus always had trouble concentrating, but their father didn’t believe in learning disabilities – especially when it came to his own super-child possessions. He only saw his son’s fleeting attention span as another weakness. When Ben started to study psychology on his own, he came to the realization his brother was a classic case of Attention Hyperactive Deficit Disorder (ADHD). However, their father would barely let them take aspirin, so any sort of medications was out of the question. The only exception was Vanya, but they were told she had anxiety and since she was ordinary it did not matter if it potentially altered her brain chemistry. 

No one ready understood Klaus except for him, he often thought. He didn’t really want to have that responsibility most of the time, but it was his burden to bear. If he didn’t keep an eye on his brother, who would? Like Klaus had said, the rest of their siblings’ heads were… well, they focused on other things they deemed more important. 

“Hey,” a voice said from the doorway, causing Ben to jump. 

Diego, of course. He could sneak up on you like a cat. 

“Hi,” Ben replied carefully. He was surprised to see anyone came after him. However, if anyone did he supposed it would be Diego. 

“What the hell was that? You almost Hulked out down there.”

Ben shrugged. What else was there to say? He said everything he had wanted to downstairs.

“You’ve said barely two words for months and now you’re flipping out over Klaus?” Diego asked, judgement coating his words.

“We were going to leave, you know?” Ben said, suddenly. He wasn’t sure why he was telling his brother this, but for some reason it felt satisfying. “Klaus and me. We talked about it this week. And then he didn’t come back.”

Diego folded his arms and scoffed.

“You should know by now not to trust anything that comes out of his mouth. He was probably high,” he said. 

“No… he wasn’t. And I trust him more than any of you. He cares… about all of us. That’s more than I can say for the rest of you,” Ben replied. 

“Hey, I may not have time for Klaus’ antics anymore, but don’t you dare compare me to those two,” he said, offended, gesturing down the hall. 

Ben looked away, but he knew his brother was right. Diego was more like him and Klaus – there was no doubt about it. He could be righteous, but he wasn’t self-indulgent. Behind all the anger and the aggression, he was just like them – scared and lost. He also loved Klaus, although he wouldn’t outwardly admit it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be in this room right now. 

“I’m going to find him,” Ben said firmly. Nothing could change his mind. He looked around and spotted his backpack in the corner of the room. It contained his wallet – currently holding about twenty bucks – and a couple of paperbacks. Knowing where he’d probably have to look, he wished he had a few weapons to bring along, but he wasn’t a walking arsenal like Diego. 

“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that? If Klaus doesn’t want to be found your odds are slim to none,” Diego said, folding his arms in front of him. His voice gave off a tone of condescension, but his body language told Ben he was just as nervous for their brother as he was. 

“Last year I started to keep track of the clubs and bars he frequents. He’d just mention them in conversation, but I figured I might need a way to track him one day in case he took things too far… or met someone who did,” Ben explained as he put on the backpack. 

“Smart,” Diego admitted. 

“So, are you coming or what?” Ben asked him. 

He paused in confusion, lost for words. And then he sighed. 

“I guess someone should make sure you two don’t end up on a milk carton,” Diego said, masking his actual concern with feigned annoyance. 

They made a quick stop at Diego’s room for him to arm himself before diverting to Klaus’ room. Ben didn’t need any more convincing, but the sight of his brother’s prized MP3 player made Diego pause. He knew what he was thinking – some things a person just doesn’t leave behind. 

“Let’s go,” Diego said, wheels evidently turning in his head, as he nodded towards the window. It was their exit. Soon enough the pair was exiting the grounds of The Umbrella Academy and heading downtown where they hoped they would find their brother alive in one piece.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your encouraging comments and kudos! It always makes my day and really inspires me to keep going. I love all the speculation, but I won't say if anyone is right or wrong for the sake of spoilers :)
> 
> I was going to post a long chapter, but I was eager to get a new one up for you guys tonight so I posted the first part. I'm going to continue and hopefully post the rest either tomorrow or this weekend! 
> 
> I hope everyone reading this is having a good week If you're not - drink some water, cuddle with a pet (or a friend's!), and take care of yourself! xoxoxo

**Week 2 - Klaus**

_Click_  

Lay on stomach.

_Click, click_  

Kneel.

_Click, click, click_  

Freeze and stop what you’re doing.

And repeat…

The sound of the clacker became the percussion to Klaus’ soundtrack in his basement prison. His captor’s words were the lyrics. After a while they all melted together into a symphony of degradation. It was a monotonous anthem, but he knew the man wanted it to be that way. Reginald bred them with strict routines and the Academy became compliant… well, most of them. If Klaus was truly compliant to the ways of the Academy he wouldn’t be here. He cringed at the thought of admitting dear old Dad and Luther were right. However, he’d say it a million times over and over just to go back home and never see his captor again. 

The man’s beady eyes had the ability to sear into him – unleashing every anxiety he tried to swallow out of pride. Klaus hated the sound of his slightly effeminate laughter, which seemed to slip out during his most humiliating tasks like eating the ground up mixture of meat, vegetables, and whatever else out of the dog bowl or relieving himself on the floor pads. The first few times he’d snapped at him with a dig out of impulse, but the memory of high levels of electricity surging through him curbed any further quips.

There was also the matter of his medicine. His captor’s injections, distributed twice a day via a needle to the arm, aided the withdrawal he was currently suffering through. Night sweats, fatigue, brain zaps, nausea – it made his situation all the more miserable. However, without the medication he received, his symptoms escalated into vomiting, anxiety like he had never felt before, and, once, a seizure. He must have been hallucinating as well because he’d never before met six-foot rabbits in all his ghostly encounters. And then there were the ghosts. He attributed it to the hallucinations, but he could have sworn they all bore a strange resemblance to him. It was hard to see them in the shadowy depths of the basement, but one night he could have sworn he saw someone in an Umbrella Academy uniform. As he usually did with his ghostly glimpses, he buried the memory deep in his mind. Nonetheless he had no choice but to behave… to submit.

With no clues from sunlight or a clock, Klaus began to lose track of time. He imagined, though, he had to have been there over a week. With that notion as a reference point, he began to etch one line per day into the fortunately soft, claylike wall behind his cage. He knew his captor could see his every move, but he supposed he didn’t care. Today, he made his thirteenth mark. He felt sick and it wasn’t the withdrawal or the slop he ate. Was anyone even looking for him? Did his family even care that he was missing? Although he knew he couldn’t altogether blame them based on his habit of disappearing for days at a time, he hoped _someone_ – maybe Ben or even Diego – would realize he wouldn’t go thirteen days, or more, without at least calling.

The morning routine started as it normally did. The door beeped and opened – he concluded long ago it was locked with some sort of code – before his captor entered, immediately clicking three times. Then once. Then twice. He slid the bowls under the cage, which had an opening in front just big enough for them to fit through.

“Eat.”

And Klaus did. Although the slop, as he thought of it, wasn’t exactly Grace’s waffles and bacon, it was edible. However, the portion always left him wanting more. From the way his captor gazed at his naked form he supposed he liked his thin physique and wanted to keep it that way – making him wish the man preferred love handles to heroin chic. There was water in the second bowl, which he lapped up. At first, he’d struggled with positioning himself the right way, but now he could drink like the average golden retriever.

And there it was – that mocking chuckle. _Hardy har, you’d have water dripping down your front too, asshole,_ he thought to himself. His face, however, was blank. Captivity had certainly provided ample training for poker.

“Congratulations, slut pet. It’s graduation day,” the human thumb of a man smiled.

“You’ve successfully embraced the fact that you’ve been nothing but an animal… until now,” he continued.

Klaus’ heart began to beat a little faster. While he wouldn’t mind not living the kennel life, he wasn’t sure he liked the sound of whatever he was about to ramble on about. 

“It is time to begin level two of your training. You will learn how to submit to me as your Master and fulfill my needs. I’ll admit it’s been difficult waiting, but in order to embrace your new self you had to accept what you were,” the man explained.

_Oh God, he sounds like Reginald… if Reginald wanted to fuck him._ Klaus bit the inside of his cheek fiercely to stop himself from rolling his eyes. It was just one of many methods of self-restraint he’d discovered in captivity. He grit his teeth behind his lips and continued to listen.

“You will be rewarded for good behavior and punished accordingly for failing to meet my standards or disobeying my orders. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will do what’s necessary. This is a relationship. If you comply and excel you could be happy here. If not… well, I think it’s best to think positively, don’t you?”

Klaus wanted to shout a number of profanities. A _relationship_? This guy was certifiably insane. Kidnapping was not a relationship. Klaus didn’t even do relationships consensually with attractive people who actually had necks.

“Oh, yes, how silly of me – you are permitted to speak when spoken to as long as you address me as Master. However, I would advise you to choose your words carefully. So, do you agree that it’s a good idea to think positively?” 

… _fuck_. As much as he wanted to provide a colorful response he also wanted to see where this went… namely what he could get out of it. After all, the more freedom he had the more likely he would have an opportunity to escape. 

“Y-yes, Master,” Klaus practically croaked. It was like his throat was coated in saw dust after such a long period of silence. Not to mention saying Master felt fucking weird. He’d engaged in BDSM a few times, but his partner preferred other titles like “beloved” or “my love” – more romantic. _Never Sir_. Klaus was grateful his captor… or “Master,” he supposed, saved him _that_ indignity. Still, the only time he ever heard someone call someone else Master was when Pogo addressed him or his siblings. _Gross_. If he ever got out of here, he’d need to ask the good doctor to switch up his vocabulary for the sake of his stomach.  

“Excellent,” his captor smiled. “With that being said, it’s time to get you cleaned up and dressed, I think. And I will bring in your cot.” 

Klaus perked up slightly at this. A cot? Like a bed? _Oh, sweet Jesus._ The floor of hay made his hard bed at the Academy seem like one of those spongey mattresses his wealthy hook-ups always had. As much as he didn’t want to do anything this asshole told him to do, who could fault him at doing what he needed to do to get some well-earned comfort.

“Thank you, Master,” Klaus said… and he meant it.

“You’re welcome, slave,” he said with another gummy smile. “Just don’t make either of us regret it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys! Meant to put this up over the weekend, but it needed some refining and I didn't want to rush it. Hope you enjoy as everything (slowly) starts to come together for Ben and Diego. No Klaus this chapter, but we'll see him next time!

**Week 2 – Diego & Ben**

The last five days had been a whirlwind of night clubs, dive bars, and even a disco that somehow survived past the 80s. According to Ben, these were all of Klaus’ go-to escapes from the Academy. Flashing his tattoo and dramatically recalling – and exaggerating – missions, he’d get as much alcohol as his heart desired from people of all sorts. It hadn’t really been a huge surprise that Klaus had the biggest social life out of them all, but Diego found himself surprised by the sheer number of people he was friendly with. He was also a little jealous – mostly because it wasn’t all creepy men like he expected.

By chance, a group of teenagers around their own age recognized them and asked about Klaus. Apparently, their brother snuck away to hang out from them from time to time. After talking for a bit, Ben and Diego learned they were probably the best influences in their brother’s life. They only drank socially and smoked a little pot once in a blue moon. Mostly they hung around a youth center with a small sector dedicated to LGBT teens. However, it seemed Klaus primarily enjoyed their company as opposed to advocating for any social issues.

Even though his siblings frowned upon a lot of things their brother did – namely his drug abuse and penchant for saying and doing the wrong things at the wrong time - all of them accepted their brother’s sexuality. Surprisingly, their father didn’t seem to have an outright issue with Klaus’ preference for, well, everyone. It didn’t excuse his rejection of, ultimately, who Klaus was – his fashion, his creativity, his personality – but it was one less abuse their brother had to take. Still, this group’s existence made Diego feel guilty. What else didn’t he know about his brother?

The group said they were worried that they hadn’t heard from Klaus in almost a week – yet another sign something was truly wrong. A few bartenders also mentioned it was the longest streak to memory Klaus hadn’t shown up. However, no one could tell him and Ben much about the last time they saw him. According to them, nothing out of the ordinary happened that week – no bar fights, no drug busts, nothing. The fact that the world had seemed to swallow their brother whole without a trace made Diego want to stab something. Many times.

Sneaking out almost every night was beginning to affect their ongoing training. Diego found his reflexes were slowed – likely from a lack of sleep – and Ben could barely keep up during their endurance runs. Reginald continued to find a way to blame Klaus without actually doing anything about his disappearance. After one particularly dismal day of training he demanded the brothers into his office and went off about how they were distracted by “Number Four’s selfish rebellion.” They both bit their tongues, not wanting to jeopardize their efforts with potential late-night punishments. Fortunately, they only walked away with their weekend privileges taken away and replaced with additional training. However, Reginald made it clear that if this continued the entire Academy would face consequences. Diego didn’t know what their father meant, but as much as he disliked Luther and found himself annoyed by Allison, he did not want anyone to suffer because of him – even though he knew he and Ben were doing the right thing.

On the cusp of the third week their brother was missing, Diego and Ben were outside yet another seedy club trying to get information out of anyone they could. However, yet again, it was proving fruitless. They were about the leave around 2 a.m. when a man in a long, tattered peacoat approached them. He was tall and gangly with a full head of sandy blonde hair and a well-defined jawline. He looked to be in his late-30s or early 40s. The man needed a bath. 

“You kids looking for something? Uppers? Candy? White stuff?” he asked them quietly with hoarse voice, leaning on the exterior wall of the building pulsating with bass.

“Not today, man,” Diego started. “But maybe you could help us out. We’re looking for a guy. His name is Klaus. Maybe you sold to him?”

“Klaus, huh?” the guy asked. Something about his expression suggested wheels were turning in his head. “Well, that depends, what do you want with him?”

Diego didn’t like his tone and his fatigue was clouding his judgement. He whipped out a concealed blade and pinned the man against the wall, the knife pointed to his jugular.

“I’m _asking_ _you_. You know where he is?” he said, internally impressed with himself for not stuttering in such a high-pressure situation.

“Kid, you’re making a mistake,” the man responded, staring Diego down with a little too much confidence for someone with a knife to the throat.

“Oh, am I?” Diego asked, sneering at the guy’s nerve.

“This isn’t the way,” Ben said quietly. He had almost forgotten his brother was there in all the drama.

“Sorry bro, but these scum bags only respond if you speak their language. Right friend?” Diego said, pushing the blade a little further. It was now practically indenting the man’s neck.

“You should listen to your brother,” the man said, still relatively calm. 

“And why is that?” Diego pushed.

“Kid,” he said, staring at Ben, “There’s something in my coat pocket you should take a look at.”

Diego’s imagination ran wild. Oh God, what if he had one of Klaus’ fingers or some shit? He looked over at Ben, who didn’t seem to know if he should look or not.

“Do it,” Diego instructed Ben.

Cautiously, Ben approached them and slowly slid his hand into the man’s pocket. Relief showed on his face as he touched whatever it was in there. He pulled it out and looked at it. It was a badge. 

“He’s a cop… a _detective_ ,” Ben said, flashing the badge at Diego.

“Fuck…” Diego uttered. Looking him over quickly, he now noticed a shape on his hip that was definitely a gun.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? If this guy called backup and they were arrested they would never step foot outside until they turned eighteen – if Reginald even adhered to the laws of parental control.

“Yeah, so you wanna get your knife away from my throat now?” the guy asked.

“Come on, let him go,” Ben pleaded.

“If I let you go are you going to arrest us?” he asked, despite Ben’s anxious body language.

“That depends,” said the man they now knew to be a cop.

“On what?” he asked.

“If you have a good enough reason to threaten to kill a man you don’t know,” he said.

“Our brother… he’s missing. Almost three weeks now,” Diego started. He finally loosened his grip and slipped the knife back into his belt. “We think something happened to him.”

The man, still calm and seemingly unbothered by the whole affair, straightened himself and cracked his neck.

“Three weeks, huh? And you never filed a police report?” he asked them.

It was Ben who responded, to Diego’s surprise. 

“Our father is Reginald Hargreeves. He’s a bastard who thinks our brother is out there by choice – maybe just to spite him. If he knew we were out here or that we filed a report we’d lose any chance of finding him. We just want our brother back.” 

“You’re the Umbrella kids.”

Diego and Ben glanced at each other and nodded.

 “Well, I’m guessing from the knife that you’re Diego,” the man said looking him over.

“And you don’t look that strong – no offense – or female or missing, so that would make you Ben, right?”

“Okay, so you’ve read your teen magazines, so what?” Diego snapped, getting impatient with all the talking.

“Better. I know your brother. Pretty well, actually. And you’re right – he’s missing. None of his dealers have heard a peep in, like you said, almost three weeks,” the man explained.

“And why do you care?” Diego asked, still not sure if they could trust this cop or whoever he was. 

“Because I’m a friend,” he said plainly.

Diego scoffed.

“You want me to believe my brother, _Klaus_ , was friends with a cop?”

“Is it harder to believe than a kid seeing the dead or a girl who can control people with her voice?” the man posed.

“Touché,” Ben said, almost to himself.

“Believe me or don’t believe me, but I’m probably your best shot of seeing your brother alive again… and if that’s going to happen, I need your help,” the detective admitted. “Meet me at Griddy’s tomorrow at midnight if you’re interested.”

With that, he cracked his neck once more and walked away into the shadows of the alleyway.

When Diego and Ben arrived back at the Academy, they were both still lost in thought. Diego didn’t know what his brother was thinking, but the primary question running through is mind was whether they could trust this guy… this detective. Although he didn’t put much merit into his father’s beliefs, he still couldn’t help but consider the city’s police force to be incompetent. From his understanding of how the whole system worked, there was more paperwork involved than actual crime fighting. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered applying to the police academy when he was old enough, but Diego knew it would be a challenge to ever admit their ways were more efficient than how criminals were dealt with by the Academy. However, when it came to finding Klaus it was becoming apparent their current resources – or lack thereof – weren’t cutting it. Unless Reginald did a 180 and decided it was imperative to find their brother with the full force of the Academy, this mystery detective might actually be their best shot of bringing Klaus home. 

 **The Following Night**  

Ben was completely out breath by the time they reached Griddy’s. Pogo had taken to patrolling their corridor until 10 to midnight, giving him and Diego scarce time to get to Griddy’s on time to meet the detective. They both decided they should hear him out. Their efforts weren’t cutting it and Ben knew from every crime book – fiction or non-fiction – he read that the longer a person was missing the less likely you were to find them alive… or at all. 

The wonderful smell of fried dough greeted them as they walked into the doughnut shop. He almost didn’t recognize the man in the booth far in the back except for his sandy hair. Now, however, it was slicked back neatly, and he was wearing crisp white button down with a navy tie to match his navy suit jacket and trousers. However, he had taken his jacket off at some point, exposing his shoulder gun holster – _just like the detectives in the movies_ , Ben thought. 

“There’s our guy,” Diego muttered as he led them over. Ben didn’t mind his brother’s tendency to wordlessly demand that he lead, but he hoped he learned his lesson about being overly volatile after last night. If he kept it up, he would get himself into serious trouble one day.

“Boys, glad you could join me. Take a seat,” the detective said, motioning to the opposite side of the booth. “I went ahead and ordered a variety dozen – wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“We’re not here for the doughnuts,” Diego said with a hint of impatience. 

Ben rolled his eyes. It was always high drama with his siblings – all of them.

“Thank you, detective. We appreciate it,” Ben said, sliding past his brother to take a seat.

Diego seemed thrown off by his deviation the unspoken script he started with, but he must have felt a little stupid because he resigned to sit down as well and follow suit with a more civilized approach.

“It’s Detective Will Armstrong, but you can call me Will,” the man they now knew as Will said amicably. Ben had wondered whether he had a cold last night since his voice was so hoarse, but either he was still sick or that was just how he sounded. 

“Okay, Will, how can you help us find our brother?” Diego asked, cutting to the chase.

“Well, Diego, I have a lot of resources that you,” he started before consuming a bite of a Boston Cream doughnut, “…don’t.”

“No shit,” Diego spat.

“Diego, stop,” Ben demanded. He was unfamiliar with the sense of command in his voice, but he was going to embrace it. “If you’re not going to be helpful then leave.” 

Surprisingly, this shut his brother down. Maybe it was because Diego was caught off-guard by his usually soft-spoken brother’s assertions or maybe he just knew he was right – either way, Ben was just glad he was willing to cooperate.

“I think what my brother wants to ask is, what can you tell us that we don’t know?” Ben asked.

“Well, when it comes to Klaus, we could be here all night,” Will said as he put a packed manila folder on the table. The label read: KLAUS HARGREEVES 

“Technically, your brother’s never been charged with anything. However, our department has known about his… activities, I guess you could say, since he was about thirteen. Your father has friends in high places, and it’s kept Klaus out of juvie more times than you want to know. And you were right when you said old Reginald doesn’t want anyone looking for him. I called your father personally after Klaus fell off my radar. He’s pretty set on the idea that he is out there on ‘an unsavory binge.’ But I believe otherwise.”

“How do you know?” Ben asked, still trying to process the information Will was presenting to them. He couldn’t help but wonder if each of them was being monitored more than they knew.

“The last time I ran into your brother - outside the convenience store on 12th Street the Tuesday before he went missing - he said he had a date with, what he called, ‘a rich-as-fuck ginger.’ He was also high as a kite. Wouldn’t tell me the guy’s name. And I gave up on trying to get information out of Klaus that he didn’t want to share some time ago. We’ve gotten to know each other over the years. I always liked him. He’s a nut, but he’s a good kid. But, technically, I’m not even assigned to keep tabs on him anymore. About six months ago, around the time Klaus turned 16, your father said all special surveillance, intervention, and legal immunity was to be suspended for him. But the point is, if my supervisors found out I was working on this, I would probably be fired. They reamed me out pretty badly after Reginald told them about our phone call.”

“That fucking bastard,” Diego muttered. 

“So, are all of us, you know, under surveillance?” Ben asked, feeling suddenly paranoid.

“No, it was just Klaus. You all have immunity, of course. How else do you think you could go around doing what you do? But Klaus was the only one Reggie wanted tailed. It didn’t always work – your brother was a pro at giving someone the slip if he wanted to – but I got him out of some situations over the years and he’s better off for it. But he’s been on his own. I broke the news to him, but he said he didn’t care – I think he did. Part of me knew something would happen. I prayed to God it wouldn’t, but here we are.”

“Shows how much praying does,” Diego said darkly. 

Will’s kind face turned at that moment and it was evident he was seeing red.

“You have a lot of nerve. I’m putting my job on the line right now and you’re acting like a brat. You can play this poor little superhero card all you want, but it’s not going to help your brother. He’s been gone almost three weeks and the longer it takes us to find him the more likely we’ll be bringing him back in a body bag. Like I said, I have resources – sources, DNA databases, sex offender registries – and it’s going to go a lot further than standing outside clubs and bars every night. So, you can take my help or leave it, but I know if we work together on this it will only give us – _him_ – a better chance.”

Diego’s eyes were watery. Ben knew he was emotionally drained. They both were, but Diego lashed out when he was tired or hungry or stressed. Ben just kept it in until it made him sick. He gave his brother’s wrist a squeeze under the table, letting him know it was okay.

“I-I’m s-sorry, man. I-it’s j-just been h-h-hard,” Diego stuttered, to his embarrassment.

“I get it, kid. I really do. I’ve been working kidnappings for 10 years and this kind of stress does things to people – horrible things,” Will said with a sadness in his voice. There was a warmth too. Ben knew he was one of the good ones.

Diego nodded.

“I’m going to do everything I can to help you find Klaus,” Will said. “And we can start right now because I think I have a lead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but when I re-read this I read Will's voice in Bill's from Mindhunter! So I went ahead and changed his Brooklyn accent to a hoarse voice for my own piece of mind. He still looks nothing like Bill, but that's how he sounds in my head lol :shrug:


End file.
